Swan Song
by Requiem Dancer
Summary: "Honestly Master, you may as well have sold your soul to the Devil. But don't worry, I'll ensure that I grant you the Holy Grail in exchange."


The bar was empty, most of the tables having their chairs put up for convenience later, the small furnace on the wall across from the bar having all but snuffed out, my only real companions being a cocktail and the bartender. Normally, I would never be caught dead at a bar, I hated alcohol with a fiery passion. Plus, when this place was populated I would probably be fucking crucified for living here an umpteenth amount of years and never going to festivals and whatnot unless my mother wanted to go.

But, if you had the massive fuckathon of bullshittery I just went through, you'd be drinking more than just some dirty martinis and half of a shot of bourbon because the most alcohol you've had beforehand is a sip of sake when you were nine and shitty beer when you were nineteen.

As I swallowed the last few sips of the miracle drink known as alcohol, I caught a glimpse of the mark on my forearm, mostly hidden by my jacket sleeve. It was an obsidian black, and of all the goddamned things looked like the writing off a metal album cover you'd find in the West. You know the one, just look up any band heavier than goddamned air and it looks like you took a bunch of dead logs and crisscrossed them and then set it on fire for good measure and BOOM, you have the logo art for "Murder-Fuckgasm", or, **OR** , the magical tattoo on my arm that appeared this goddamn morning and dragged me into a whole fuckathon of where I don't fucking belong because fuck me for fuck's sake.

And the funny part is, that isn't even the worse fucking part!

 **(I)**

Swan Song  
 **(I)**

 **Chapter One: A Drink And Nothing More**

The alarm blared like a siren, and I just about fell out of bed, whacked my head, and killed myself due to a moment of stupidity and flailing and not because I died having sex with a model while Careless Whisper played in the background while being higher than the stars on every drug you can think of.

What? We all got dreams, mine are just a tad more perverted than the norm. I blame the shitload of hentai that's in this country, and from America, and Europe, and Rus-godamn we are a nasty, perverted species. Like, Christ we certainly like our sex, and for the people not in a relationship, our "strangling the chicken" or "flicking the bud" as they say, all for a couple minutes of pleasure(Or if you're a fucking god of endurance, several hours). Anyways, bed, alarm, pain.

As I slammed my palm against my alarm clock a little harder than I should have, I entertained the thought of just saying screw it and calling into work sick and just sleeping until the non-existent chickens come home to roost in a non-existent chicken coop. But, alas, I'm poor and need money. Welcome to capitalism, sure beats living across the river in Korea though.

Sleepily putting on my suit, burning my tongue on coffee, and grabbing my beaten umbrella and suitcase, I stepped into the storm, and started my practically daily routine as I walked to the bus station a couple blocks away from the Semina apartment complex. Say hi to the old lady on the same floor with her five cats, see if that one sushi place's chef had come back from vacation yet, then wait about ten minutes until my bus showed up. But, in the odd twist of Fate you see at the beginning of every "sent to another world" light novel, mostly the shitty ones, I bumped into someone I'm surprised is even a hundred feet near my neighborhood.

With that stupid as hell nickname I got because my parents hate me, I was startled from my thoughts of whether I should jump in front of the bus or not. "Jii-jii? I didn't know you lived around here." My, admittedly really cute coworker Miia said as she shook off a couple stray raindrops.

"Likewise." I said quickly. Now, before this goes any further, we gotta pull out the storybook of explanation. Now, firstly my name's George, and even though I'm not even forty yet my hair's already graying, which wouldn't be bad if my hair wasn't pitch black and the gray stood out like a sore goddamn thumb. Combined with a beard that covers my face and down to my throat, apparently I looked old as hell to some people. And when my mother decided to call me "Georgie" in front of several of my coworkers, they heard "Jii-jii". So now everyone thinks I'm a grandpa and Westerners just don't age until they're halfway in the grave. I've tried, oh Lord have I tried to stop this shit but it stuck. My own boss fucking calls me it!

"Yeah, the bus I used to take got shut down because some Yazuka were using it to smuggle heroin." She said, way too relaxed for something that big, but then again I'm not much better when it comes to using the proper emotions for the proper moments. "Is this one good?"

"It's good for me. Bus driver doesn't like talking, it doesn't have a lot of weird stains, and the few guys who tried groping got their teeth knocked out, so that's a plus."

"Really? That's a good thing."

"Mhm." I hummed in response.

We didn't talk much afterwards, not that there's much to talk about. We hardly know each other really, only having a couple talks through cubicles or "around the water cooler" as they say, and it was all about work. Plus, I'm a recluse, borderline otaku guy who looks like he's straight off a plane to tour the country, nobody likes talking to a gajin unless it's their business. I've run into about four of that trope in my entire life, and I've wanted to punch them all in the mouth for just being general fuckheads. Although, there was that really nice old guy with a passion for origami who bought me a drink when he spilled his on me. And those tourists/cosplayers who actually took the time to learn some basic Japanese before coming here.

It's all hit and miss I guess.

Anyways, if you skip the boring bus ride and about half of my work day, it's only until about eleven things started on the slippery slope that led me to the bar. Ironically, it was an invitation for a drink.

"Sorry, my mother is flying over in several days. Need to make sure my place is clean enough." I responded, my boss Takizawa frowning. Yeah, I said no to my goddamn boss. He was actually a handful of years younger than me, but his uncle was a big shot in the lawyer business here in Japan, and pulled a few strings to get him into being a manager at one of the smaller agencies in Fuyuki. So, in an odd turn of events, we got a boss who's a lot more relaxed, and sadly way more prone to having company bar crawls (I'm sorry, _company outings for a drink_ ) and the like. And, for some ungodly reason, he really wanted me to come to these events. Every, damn, time.

"Oh come on Jii-jii! You're the only guy here who doesn't drink on a regular basis, and we need a reliable drunk wrangler! Every time we go out, one of us had to pick the short straw and stay sober all night!" He complained, acting more like a kid than someone who should be in charge of anyone.

"Like I said, I'll have to decline sir. I hope you can understand." I repeated, my monotone never breaking. Now, normally he would pout, hard. Despite all his genius, he's essentially an overgrown toddler. But instead, this bastard looked like a damn cat with the smirk on his face.

"What if I set your mom up a place at a hotel?" He asked, and I nearly dropped the paper in my hand. "If she has her own place to stay, you can afford to relax on cleaning up your place, and you'll be able to come out with us! Pretty good deal if I say so myself!" He said a little too loudly for my own comfort.

"S-sir! That's insane, the hotels in the good part of town can go up to-" "I have a big bank account from my uncle. He practically throws money at me every holiday, so don't sweat it! A new bar opened up in Miyama town, apparently it blows Copenhagen out of the water in their sake." "But sir!-" "No buts! Meet me at the bus station at eight o'clock sharp!" He yelled over his shoulder as he headed back to his own office, as I stared at his back in horror.

From my other side, I heard a low whistle, I can't really describe it but it's the one you use right before you normally say _"Well, damn."_ or something along those lines. Miia, amused at my misery smirked when I looked at her peeking over the cubicle. "I believe where you're parents are from, they'd say you were just "shoehorned" into going drinking."

"Never heard it before, but I'll keep that in mind the next time I get forced into something when I'd rather get another prostate exam instead." I grumbled in all seriousness. Miia giggled in such a way that made me think of a hamster or another small animal that chittered when it ate. Wasn't annoying though, it was kinda cute the same way a, well, the same way hamster or small kitten is.

"Yeah, well, see you tomorrow Jii-jii. I gotta head home and feed my cat before he gets into my pantry again." She said, accompanied by my scoff. "That cat's probably twice the size of my head at this rate with how much you give him." I said with a hair of condescension that I made sure didn't go unnoticed.

In her very adult response obviously well thought out to ensure she came off as mature and refuted my points regarding her hilariously obese cat, she blew me the raspberry. "Get off my back Gramps, it's not my fault my cat has a big appetite!"

Technically it is, but yeah, whatever you say Miia.

 **I**  
Never let it be said that the resident grandpa of lawerland was late to a company drinking party. Because there I was, sitting glumly at the bus stop as my boss and a couple co-workers walked over, already laughing like hyenas.

"Ah, Jii-jii! Right on time." Takizawa yelled, flicking a couple ashes off his cigarette. "The bus should be here in a couple minutes," He informed me as he sprawled over the bench next to me. "So how've you been dude!" He asked cheerily, my other co-workers grouping up to talk about, whatever they talk about.

"Well." I replied, my enthusiasm having dropped several rungs from "child in a courtroom" to 'dead fish'

"Weeell, how's your love life? Buy any new manga? Hentai? Give me details man! You're the only guy in the office who actually has a nickname, and we don't even know if you're grandpa like!" He explained loudly. That's cute boss, you think that I haven't created a nickname for everyone in the office, Lion-O's Lazy Infant Brother? Real damn adorable Mr. "I-May-As-Well-Be-A-Baby-In-A-Suit".

"Sir, with all due respect I have probably the most boring life of all your employees. I don't go out to drink, I don't go on dates, and the only reason I'm here is because I have nothing else to do and you ordered me too." I said in the most dead tone imaginable, his casual smile turning into a frown. He sighed, putting his cigarette out on the bench.

"Christ, didn't realize you were an undercover member of the fun police."

"If I was sir, who would I even have to arrest?" I retorted, keeping my tone level. Surprisingly, given my brain showing a million emotions at once ranging from suicidal depression to orgasmic joy, I'm really good at appearing completely neutral and unaffected. It's a gift, or a curse depending on who you talk to.

Catching my remark, my boss harrumphed before proudly holding his hand up to his chest. "Well then officer, I guess tonight I guarantee you'll need to arrest somebody." He proclaimed loudly as the bus approached. It was at this point in time I knew for a fact that I was in for a rough night, which I was right about. Just not what would make this night "rough".

 **I**

The bus ride started out rather simple, we all shuffled in with Takizawa paying for everyone, like _"awesome boss and friend that I am!_ , and us shuffling to our seats. Most of the seats weren't long-leg friendly, so I just stood instead. We had some idle chatter, my coworker Hiro pulling out his phone, cursing every now and then grumbling under his breath about a "gacha", and I talked about recent news with another guy, who's name is completely unknown as I hardly remembered Hiro's.

After a couple minutes of the bus ride, I heard something. It was a weird, weird noise. I can't really describe it well, but it's like when your ears pop from changing pressure by going up in a plane or down a steep mountain. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt persay. It just set me on edge. I stuck my pinkie in my ear, hoping to somehow make it go away or fix my ear, but it didn't go away. I asked if anyone else heard it, but I just received a couple people shaking their head no. I chalked it up to my ears being weird, but the paranoia wasn't going away.

Then, the bus stopped abruptly. To the point I nearly fell over and Takizawa nearly ate the seat in front of him. "For Christ's sake driver! Little warning would've been appreciated!" He yelled, several of the others joining him in our collective sentiments. The bus driver remained quiet, staring directly ahead into the night.

"Oi! Shithead! Where are we?" Hiro yelled as I looked out the window into the blackness. No, not just a dark night like I initially assumed, but pure, unfiltered blackness that seemed to cling to the bus like sap to a tree. "What the fuck." I breathed, looking around in a panic. There had to be a streetlight, a house with a light on, the damn moonlight. But there was nothing, just black.

"What the fuck!" I yelled louder, stumbling to the other side of the bus in a daze, falling into an empty seat. It shouldn't have been real, _it couldn't have been real_ , but it was as if we had just hopped from a bus ride and straight into the abyss.

"The driver's not breathing!" Someone yelled. "I'll call an amb-fuck my phone's dead!" Someone screamed back in a panic. I couldn't hear anything else that was said, panic running through my head at what felt like a mile a minute. I was in a completely different world at that point, every breath was choking me, toxic and vile. I tried to calm myself down, but it wasn't just my head that was making the air taste toxic.

All around me, people started clawing at their throats as a burnt copper tasting gas infested the air. Some attempted to filter it out through the handkerchiefs in their pockets, but based on the violent coughing from them it didn't work. I clawed at my tie, ripping it off my neck to try and relieve non-existent pressure, but nothing worked. The bus had already started spinning, stars appearing in my eyes as I started to suffocate. My head slammed back against the bus, only increasing the rate at which I had begun to pass out.

For the second time, I truly contemplated death. To let the gas take me and just die, not like I would be remembered really. My parents always had my sister, my other co-workers could get new jobs, Miia probably would forget I even existed in less than a month.

But I couldn't, I wouldn't just die because of this shit.

Fingers met the bus seat as I clawed my way to the window, in a foolish idea brought out by probable brain damage, I slapped dumbly against the window, thinking if I hit hard enough I could bring fresh air inside and breathe again.

 _"Break, break, break."_

Then my entire back set on fire. It spread through my veins, every inch of my flesh setting ignite with fiery red pain, as the glass under my touch imploded outwards. The humid night air began to slowly creep in, but it wasn't enough to rouse me from the agony as my nerves screamed in pain. Looking back, I probably would have questioned how the glass just broke so easily, as that should be impossible from a suffocating man giving the glass the equivalent of a light slap, or even a slightly hard pat you give to dogs.

With my last few moments of conscious thought, I cut my hands on the window frame, pulled myself out of the bus, and rolled out of the bus and into an uncontrolled fall slamming my head onto the asphalt.

I wasn't sure how long it had been while I was under, but when I finally did get up my hands had started to clot around several pieces of glass still stuck in my hands, and my entire body still felt sore from my toes to the top of my head. But trust me, I'm still torn whether I should have just stayed asleep or whether getting up was a good idea.

As I stood up, using my forearms and saving my hands from more injury, I looked around the street. I thought I was still in Shinto, but I had no real clues other than that to where I was, except that I wasn't in _my_ Shinto. The buildings all looked the same, apartment buildings repeating again and again into infinity, and the street names didn't even look Japanese. It looked like someone had scribbled a couple meaningless symbols, or decided to change every street name to Russian, upside down and written by a Spaniard on heroin.

It felt completely wrong, it WAS wrong. But I couldn't fix it, no one could. It was the type of wrong no one could right, except for the one who made it in the first place.

It was nothing but the hairs on my neck raising did I know to move, my body haphazardly leaping forward as I felt heat on my back.

From the darkness of this hell, a woman approached. Tall, with pitch black clothing with blue accents, her chest and a large portion of her stomach revealed in her dress. Her hair was sickly pale, a twisted crown in her hair and a veil over her face. She felt completely inhuman, like a great demon among the darkness of things like Shuten and Ibaraki Dōji.

She spoke, but I didn't recognize a word she said. It was practically gibberish, but based on the smirk I could barely see through her veil and her stance, it was something that would probably be a detriment to my health. She raised her hand, and the darkness itself coalesced around her palm, before morphing into a ball as she lightly laughed.

So, using the instinct ingrained in our unconscious mind, I flew. My feet ran faster than I had ever in my life, because I had to get the ever living fuck front the oni behind me. Hey, maybe if I'm lucky I'll run into Sakata Kintoki and Minamoto and they'll defeat the demon behind me as the charitable heroes they are. I'm just kidding, I was completely fucking terrified, I had gone practically delusional at this rate from fear.

A bullet of darkness whizzed by my head, only further promoting my hysteria and speed. If I'm being entirely honest, I was blubbering and screaming like a psycho. The last thing I fucking wanted was to die from a goddamn demon shooting darkness at me. Wasn't aware this shit could even exist, but here I fucking am.

As I ran, I felt a breeze on my left leg before it suddenly gave out and fell onto the street, I went to stand up again, but I only realized my leg's state when I tried to put weight on it, as in I had no goddamn leg left. Like you just erased everything below my thigh from fucking existence.

The pain wasn't immediate, but as my brain put two and two together I could feel it grow from numbness to completely fucking impossible to manage. Blistering, blinding pain that I should have passed out from, but by some "miracle", I was still awake.

I forced my palms over my stump, but it was a empty attempt. Too many veins, too many arteries, too much of everything. As the demon stalked closer, I could only wait for the end. For my small, insignificant life to be snuffed out all for a reason I could never comprehend. I'm already fucking dea-

 _No._

No, fuck that! Fuck that to the fucking heavens above! Just because a goddamn demon says I should die means jack fucking shit! So, with a malice and murderous intent I never felt before, I looked towards my attacker as she prepared another bolt, to the demonic bitch who decided to bully the one fucking human who would say "-you."

Seemingly amused, she stopped her attack before it could launch. "Oh?" She said, now in crystal clear Japanese. "What did you say rat?"

"I said", and with a growl that I never made in my life before. "Fuck you bitch! I'll see your ass in Hell, and trust me, I'll keep the fire just warm enough that you burn for-fucking-ever you demonic whore!"

At that moment, someone smiled.

The back of my forearm ignited in a new pain, as I felt my head start to scream as this new type of pain invaded it. Like snakes, inky black markings swirled over my fingers and up my arm and to my face, crossing over my chest and back in a burning pain, and when I opened my mouth to scream, my lips instead turned into a smile with a snarl. The bolt tore into my chest, but I couldn't even feel it enter or exit. I was watching through my own eyes, but someone else was in control, and that someone began to chuckle, their voice hoarse and like sandpaper.

Then, someone else spoke through my lips. "How kind Master, for your aid." They said as they bolted from their sitting position and up towards the demon, fist outstretched and smirk widening by the second.

Startled, the demon only managed to dodge their fist and leap across the street, but not the air that had been whipped up by the strike. On both of their feet, neverminding how my leg had been cleanly cut off they had stood up with no problem. "Fufu, the witch has some speed on her." They said, their voice swirling to a high pitch of amusement. "But pray tell, will she be able to last this night? For you are far from your cabin Baba, best make do like a chicken and run!" He accompanied his threat with a leap at a blinding speed, nearly clipping the demon as she dodged again, this time I could catch her grimace of realization as she jumped onto a streetlight.

Then, she spoke in that other language again, yet it didn't sound the same as before. It was like she was speaking Japanese in my comprehension of it. "I suppose you are correct, my plans are going to need adjustments upon finding you. Do tell me, what is your name madman. For I shall write it upon your gravestone."

They smirked, wildly. "I am Assassin. It will be a pleasure later, witch."

 **(I)**


End file.
